


Connection

by ninamalfoy



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Betaed, M/M, Oneshot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-13
Updated: 2010-01-13
Packaged: 2017-10-06 05:59:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/50435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ninamalfoy/pseuds/ninamalfoy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>"What am I doing? Now," and he hears Basti chuckle, "I'm having a nice conversation with you – which will turn into something more enjoyable, if I can have my way."</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Connection

**Author's Note:**

> First published on LJ on March 25th, 2005.
> 
> Not true in the least bit. I'm just borrowing their public persona to play.
> 
> Many, many, many thanks to the awesome cerulean_eyes, who proved that she is woman enough to brave the most NC-17-rated fic that I've ever written - I do hope she enjoyed the cold shower afterwards... :-)

His cellphone rings. Who the hell wants to call him now at ten pm when he's about to have a nice satisfying bath? At least he can take his cellphone with him and with any luck, the caller won't notice that he's taking a bath. He crosses his room to the desk where the cell phone is, picks it up and pushes the key.

"Christoph Metzelder speaking."

"Metze! I feared that you'd been abducted by evil aliens. Or worse."

Metze chuckles. Now that's what he needed to hear, Basti's slightly sleepy voice. He must be exhausted after the first day of Klinsmann's training that he had to go through in Frankfurt.

"How are things, old buddy?", he asks, back in the bathroom and testing the water in the tub. Exactly the right temperature - not too hot, not too cold. He shuts off the water and steps in, holding onto the rim of the tub for balance.

"Oh, not too bad, it's okay. I tried to give my best and, well, I'll see how it goes. Jürgen seemed to be impressed with me today, I think. But I'm knocking on wood – after all, there are a lot of others who could play on my position. Like our beloved Torsten. He sends his greetings, by the way, and complains that you were gone too quick after the initial briefing so he couldn't talk longer to you."

Metze smiles, slowly inching lower into the tub until his body is almost entirely submerged by the water, only the upper part of his shoulders and his knees stick out. Involuntarily, he sighs in bliss and immediately hears Basti's chuckle.

"What are you doing now? It must be something very good…" and there it is, more audible, the untercurrent that always carries through Basti's voice when they're talking to each other, the slight hitching on the last syllable.

"I'm just taking a bath, Basti. And tell the Fringser to call me. He does have my number, if he's missing me that much. What are you doing, then?", he says, letting his hand hover on the surface of the water, splashing slightly.

"What am I doing? Now," and he hears Basti chuckle, "I'm having a nice conversation with you – which will turn into something more enjoyable, if I can have my way."

Metze raises his eyebrows at the suggestive tone, and absently takes notice of the fact that his cock has hardened slightly; but then, Basti's voice does that to him often, even if they're just talking about nonsense or holding interviews.

"Oh, and how exactly would you want to have your way?", he asks, raising himself up slightly. They haven't had phone sex for a long time – they used to, when he was abroad for the rehabilitation training and Basti was in a single room at the training camps or when the BVB was staying at a hotel for an away game as he didn't share with anyone but Metze. But now that he's back on the team and they're seeing each other regularly, they haven't had any need lately.

A chuckle, and Metze knows that Basti's about to get comfortable in his bed, as the slight creaking of bedsprings proves. "Oh, that would depend. Are you in the bathtub?"

"Yes," Metze says, swallowing.

"Good. Now… imagine me coming in the bathroom, a towel around my hips, the short one, you know. The one you always complain about because it is this garish yellow color."

Metze smiles, closing his eyes. The towel indeed is an ugly yellow, but it is very short, and ends just above Basti's ass, showing off his long legs very nicely. Anyone bending down or lying on the floor would have an entirely unobstructed view of the shapely ass and the most intimate parts of Basti. Which he would have, he realizes, as he's lounging in the bathtub and thus his point of view is substantically lower than it usually is. "Mh, yes. Are you going to come into the tub?"

"Yes, after I throw the towel in," Basti grins, and Metze can't help laughing along.

"I'd chuck it onto the floor, then. I can only bear to see it on you."

"Okay, so then I'm standing in front of you, in all my glory, and I'm hard. Very hard," Basti whispers, and Metze groans slightly, grasping the rim of the bathtub with his other hand. He doesn't trust himself to touch his cock yet, wanting to prolong the sweet torture.

"Yes, you are, and I look at you, and… and I touch your hipbone, I drag my fingers down and around, leaving a wet trail until I feel your ass."

"And then you're clutching hard, and one of your fingers dips into my cleft, pressing down, and I'm shuddering, and I look at you, I want to have you," Basti moans, and there's nothing hotter than hearing Basti losing it more and more by the second. "And I'm lifting a foot over the rim of the bathtub and it lands in the tub between your knees and so my legs are spread, and-"

"I'm saying 'Get in, what are you waiting for? A gilt-edged invitation?' and I draw your head down," Metze says, his hand stroking his inner thigh, around the thick shaft of his arousal, up to his lower stomach, carding through his pubic hair and back, always not-touching his dick. The sensation of the water movement adds to the delicious ache of his arousal.

"-and we kiss, like we do when we're totally horny, and I fall into the bathtub with a great big splash, and we're still kissing, desperately, and you're hard against me, you want me to touch you," Basti says, breathing hard in between the word spurts.

"Yes, I want to, and I spread my legs, and you fit in between there so perfectly, and I don't fucking care about the waste of perfectly good bath water, and our erections rub against each other, and I wrap a leg around your back and you start bucking against me, and it's ohsofuckingdamngood," and Metze has succumbed to his cock's ache and has closed his hand around it, employing a hard tugstroke that serves him best, alternates it with slow strokes downward, his pelvis arching off and water splashes over the rim, soaking the white carpet.

"Don't fucking come before me, do you hear," Basti says, and Metze can hear that Basti's as desperate as he is, and the rustling of clothes and possibly bedspreads makes it clear that Basti's engaged in the same activity as he is, and he groans at the sudden image of a half-naked Basti writhing on his bed, his legs spread as he is wont to do, the graceful curve of his dick hidden in his talented fingers, moving up and down quickly, the slickred head visible.

"N-no, I won't, and yes, you're beautiful like that, and you're sliding a hand downwards, and then you-"

"-wrap my hand around our dicks," Basti finishes his sentence, "and give them a couple of jerks before I draw my hand away and kiss you again, hard, and I whisper in your ear, 'Do you want me to fuck you?', and you say-"

"Oh god yes," Metze moans, and he replies to fantasy!Basti's answer as well as to the imagery Basti's painting with his words, and he raises his legs and rests them on the rim to either side, squeezing at the base of his cock to halt any premature ejaculations – too close, damn it. He hisses, lips indrawn, and continues, "and you raise onto your knees, and there's the lubricant next to the bathtub, mysteriously, and you squeeze some of it onto your cock, and I wrap my hand around it, smearing it around evenly-"

"ah, yes, and I – damn, I'm so hard – and then you move around awkwardly until your ass is in front of me, and you grip the front of the bathtub with your hands, and – damn, your bathtub is too cramped to allow this sort of thing, Metze!"

"Poetic license, ever heard of that, Basti?" Metze sighs, "The bathtub is big enough so that it works perfectly, and my dick is aching, already leaking, and I'm waiting for you to plunge in, damn, just do it already," and he's abandoning his cock and strokesqueezes his balls softly before stretching farther until he encounters his anus and he softly strokes it, pushing down on the furls, scrunching his eyes shut as the sensations threaten to overpower his mind, and as through a haze he hears Basti's voice again.

"I grip your hips, lick a broad swipe along your spine, upwards and back, down, down, and now my hands are spreading your ass cheeks, and I taste you, and it's so damn good, and you twitch and-"

Metze shudders violently at hearing Basti voicing his thoughts, and he slips a finger into himself, pressing down, and he almost comes, but just almost, and he moans deeply.

"You like, eh?" A short chuckle, and a distant, not-in-an-orgasmic-haze part of Metze's brain notes that Basti will try rimming him next time they're in bed, and he bites down on his lower lip and suddenly tastes blood and he hisses, sucking on it, the slight pain clearing his head somewhat. He hears Basti groaning into his ear and his cock jerks, and he's reminded of how painfully close he is and that it will need just some more words to finish, and he says, "Yes, and then your tongue pushes against the entrance, and then it's in, and oh my…"

Ragged breaths, and Basti's about as close as he is, and he says, "and I'm too fucking damn close, so I just lick a last time over it, and then I position my cock which is so goddamnfucking hard, at your asshole and then I push in in a single motion and you're sotighthotgood and…" and amongst his own loud moan of pleasure Metze dimly hears Basti scream, and he's also losing it, finally, letting go, exploding in millions of millions of little sparks, each glittering brightly redwhiteyellowred, and he loses his hold on the rim and slides underwater. Spluttering and breathing heavily, he rights himself up again, and this is when he realises:

The damn cell phone. In the tub.

"Gottverfickt!"


End file.
